Through the Looking Glass
by QuiteHopeless
Summary: Lily's been so wrapped up in seventh year that she hasn't noticed a few changes. Especially in her opinion of James Potter. So when her friends stage an intervention, she's in for a shock when she realizes exactly how much her perspective has changed.


Disclaimer: If I could come up with these characters and this world on my own, I wouldn't have to slave away in high school. But I can't, so I do.

A/N: So, this is exciting, since I'm putting myself out there for all of you for the first time... feels kinda empowering. Anyway, I sorta love Lily and James and I sorta love quick glimpses into stirring emotions. So, note that it's winter of Lily and James's seventh year, and that they've been working together as heads for a few months now. So Lily's perspectives have been changing slowly - almost imperceptibly - and this moment is a sort of turning point. I hope you enjoy (and review)!

**Through the Looking Glass**

Holy Hippogriff. Okay, I can see why Marlene insisted I wear the scarf over my eyes. There's no way I would've come here willingly.

"No. No, no, no, you remember what happened first year! Does the word 'traumatic' mean anything to you? What would this accomplish, anyway?" I burst out, panicked. I mean, I could understand Quidditch-crazy Emmeline trying to drag me into this, but Marlene? Marlene McKinnon, who can't even look down from the top of the Astronomy tower without puking her guts out, wants to put me on a broom?

Em rolls her eyes. "Really Lils, that incident in first year was hardly traumatic. Seriously, stuff like that happens to everyone." Yes, rocketing 30 feet off the ground and falling right back down within three seconds happens to every eleven-year-old. "Besides, as I recall, you weren't half as bad as most of the others." I shudder because she's partially right. The Hospital Wing was quite busy that day.

"Calm down Lily. See, the thing is, you've been in over your head with work lately," Marlene explains patiently. "So we're staging an intervention. For your own sanity."

"Okay, you tie a scarf around my eyes and drag me out into this heinously freezing Quidditch pitch for my own _sanity_?" I shoot right back.

Though, now that I actually step back to think about it, seventh year has been a flurry of Heads duties and the obscene N.E.W.T. workload; I've been so busy that I haven't even had time to complain about it. My glare softens slightly. Merlin, even at their worst, Emmeline and Marlene are still looking out for me.

Em sees my silent concession and helps me onto her broom as Marlene continues. "You've been living in this perpetually tense little world all term. You need to let loose a little!"

"Yeah, forget the billion things you have on your plate. Just feel that wind in your hair and soar as high as you can," Em adds.

Marlene rolls her eyes. "Okay, well you don't have to soar as high as you can… but do forget about all that crap! Forget McGonagall, and N.E.W.T.s, and Heads duties, and Potter. Especially Potter." A particularly distasteful thought occurs to her. "Merlin, those late-night patrols with Potter must be torture. Honestly, if I were in your shoes, I'd have had some sort of meltdown already."

Her cutting remark about Potter strikes a chord. And then the fact that it strikes a chord strikes another chord. I mean, usually, I'd chime in with how much of an arrogant toerag James Potter is, how he's immature and inconsiderate, and how he has no right to act like he owns the whole bloody school. But this time, all I can think of is how he saved that fourth-year Hufflepuff, Timothy Collins, from a gang of nasty Slytherins today.

I bite my lip. "That's unfair, Marlene," I start hesitantly. "He's actually been decent about his Heads responsibilities… and he hasn't been _that_ obnoxious—"

I trail off when I see Marlene's surprise. "Since when have you defended James Potter?" she asks incredulously.

"No, I mean… Well, it's not that… I'm just… I just think you're being too harsh on him," I stutter dumbly. I busy myself with the broom, avoiding Marlene's bewildered gaze.

"Too harsh? Wait, Lily, I thought you hated him!"

"Well, yes… I mean, I thought I did, but—"

"But what? Lily, when did you start—"

"Okay Marlene, as much as we love your digs at Potter, shouldn't we be, you know, flying?" Em interrupts, saving me from Marlene's interrogation. I never thought I'd ever appreciate her loyalty to her captain as much as I do now.

Em continues, positioning my hands and adjusting my stance. I nearly trip over myself trying to follow her instructions. In my rush to put the Potter episode behind us, I fervently listen to Em's cautions and leap into the air.

* * *

HOLY MOTHER OF MERLIN WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO? The wind whips away my earsplitting screams as I hang onto Em's broom for dear life. Everything's a blur, and in my panic I can hardly make out what's up and what's down. _Relax Lily. Keep your head._ My alarm continues to increase. _Keep your head! KEEP YOUR BLOODY HEAD!_ Okay, not keeping my head. I try to focus on the wood I'm gripping; it gives my mind something solid to hold onto in this chaos. I faintly register voices. No, a voice. A male voice. Potter.

"Breath, Evans. You've got to relax," he says, soothingly, huskily, sexily—Wow, where'd that come from? I mentally slap myself. _Get a hold of yourself, Lily! You're on a mad broom! And James Potter's voice is not sexy!_ I follow Potter's advice and I take a deep breath. I ease the tension in my shoulders, and, thank Merlin, the crazy broom slows. Once I'm sure I have some sort of control over the broom, I glance up at Potter appreciatively.

"Thanks," I breathe, relieved. A thought occurs to me. "What're you doing up here?"

"Err, practice starts in half an hour. I just came out a little early to… I dunno, warm up, set up, you know." He scratches his head sheepishly. "And, well, I just like being out here. Everything's clearer. Fresher. Plus, the view's really nice."

I start at his strange response. Okay, whatever, if you don't mind not being on solid ground and dealing with crazy brooms, then that's fine by me. But I sweep my gaze out across the grounds anyway… and I'm stunned.

I can see everything from here. Wow… I have to admit, the grounds look like they belong in some sort of fantasy, covered as they are with a flawless blanket of snow. Well, I suppose Potter was right… And I guess Em was too, since the wind blowing through my hair just whips away all of my worries. You know, flying's actually rather incredible. I feel so light! And free, no, limitless! I could just float and soar and dip and dive in this endless sky for the rest of time.

I almost lose myself entirely, but I remember Potter… Oh, but I shouldn't even have bothered. He's just as lost in flying as I am. I stop for a moment. This radiantly alive Potter strikes me. He really loves this. Granted, I guess anyone who gives flying a shot would love it – I mean, look at me – but he just revels in this. And after seeing that I'm fine on my own, he takes off, spiraling, twisting, speeding, plunging.

* * *

I stay behind after Em manages to pull me from the sky (I try not to scowl at her raining on my parade; I guess she really needs her broom for Quidditch practice.) to watch the Gryffindor team play. Oh, who am I kidding? I stay behind to watch Potter play. But, come on. Who can blame me? He's really in his element here.

It's weird – jarring, really – to see Potter so intense and focused. He really does love this sport. I see it in his fluid passes and desperate saves. I see it in the way he directs and coordinates his team, which works like a single unit. Most of all, I see it in how he fights for the Quaffle, how he throws everything he's got into this game – wait, no, it's not a just game. Not for him. While I think I've known for a while that Potter's no lazy, irresponsible sloth, I don't think I've truly understood the passion and drive he's got in that messy head of his until now.

But no, this isn't the first time he's shown this side of him, this… goodness and depth, isn't it? Like that time today, with Timothy Collins and the Slytherins. I shiver when I think back to how fierce his hazel eyes were when he defended poor Collins. No, definitely not the first time. I guess maybe it's just the first time I'm seeing him honestly, without bias.

This acknowledgement opens the floodgates of my mind and so many memories, moments of him rush in, overwhelming me. When Potter stepped in between Avery and Bones to keep a full-blown duel from happening. When he was gentle with that frightened little first year who bumped into him on the way to Potions. When he laughed outright, good-naturedly at one of his friends' jokes at lunch in the Great Hall. When he soothed me into slowing Em's broom down today, concern obvious in every line of his face. And in his eyes. How could I have looked into those blazing eyes and not seen their endless depth and spirit before now?

I look up back up at him. Mr. Potter, you are not who I thought you were.

* * *

A/N: Sigh. I love Lily and James. So, I hope you enjoyed it! Please please please review! I'll love you forever if you do!


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